A A P
Abby is obviously the best.
I was talking with a friend who’s in the beginning part of a relationship. They were explaining some of their anxiety around saying that they loved their partner.
Abby and I will be celebrating our ten year anniversary on Cinco De Mayo, so that sentiment is incredibly foreign to me. I remember the feeling, of course, but I remember it in the way I remember being anxious about ordering at restaurants or being late handing in an essay. It’s a rational thing, like reading about a war or an economic bubble in the past.
Ah yes, that must’ve been awful, glad I don’t need to worry about it.
The love I think about these days is different. It’s not a different flavor or a different genre from the love I enjoyed with Abby in our early days, it’s a different thing entirely. It’s akin to reading about a lottery winner, and scratching off a lucky ticket yourself. It’s the difference between reading Lonesome Dove and riding a horse, between watching Fight Club and being punched in the face.
I love all of those things, they’re good things, but they’re not the same, not even close.
Today Roby and Abby went off to meet a friend then got milk, they were out of the house for a while. When they got home they restarted the woodstove and I came down from my office to say hello.
Roby beamed up at me and proceeded to giggle for a full minute. Abby and I both teared up. She didn’t worry about saying she loved me at all, and she did it without using any words.
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I was talking with a friend who’s in the beginning part of a relationship. They were explaining some of their anxiety around saying that they loved their partner.
Abby and I will be celebrating our ten year anniversary on Cinco De Mayo, so that sentiment is incredibly foreign to me. I remember the feeling, of course, but I remember it in the way I remember being anxious about ordering at restaurants or being late handing in an essay. It’s a rational thing, like reading about a war or an economic bubble in the past.
Ah yes, that must’ve been awful, glad I don’t need to worry about it.
The love I think about these days is different. It’s not a different flavor or a different genre from the love I enjoyed with Abby in our early days, it’s a different thing entirely. It’s akin to reading about a lottery winner, and scratching off a lucky ticket yourself. It’s the difference between reading Lonesome Dove and riding a horse, between watching Fight Club and being punched in the face.
I love all of those things, they’re good things, but they’re not the same, not even close.
Today Roby and Abby went off to meet a friend then got milk, they were out of the house for a while. When they got home they restarted the woodstove and I came down from my office to say hello.
Roby beamed up at me and proceeded to giggle for a full minute. Abby and I both teared up. She didn’t worry about saying she loved me at all, and she did it without using any words.
